


How To Survive Meeting Your Girlfriend's Very Not Chill Mother: A Guide by Emmet Pomlei

by inabsurd



Category: A Saga of Light and Dark - T. J. Chamberlain
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Bonding, Jewish Smith Family, Meeting the Parents, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabsurd/pseuds/inabsurd
Summary: Emmet doesn't understand a lot of things about the women in his life, least of all Adrienne Smith.
Relationships: Emmet Pomlei & Ada Archer, Emmet Pomlei & Adreinne Smith, Emmet Pomlei & Poseidon Smith, Emmet Pomlei/Nerissa Smith
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	How To Survive Meeting Your Girlfriend's Very Not Chill Mother: A Guide by Emmet Pomlei

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silver_fish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_fish/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAYLOR! I had such a fun time writing your kids I just hope I did them justice :')

“Well, how’s Thursday, then?” Nerissa presses, irritation bleeding very clearly into her tone. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ada wince in sympathy.

“Thursday...well, I, uh, I think my mom said something about, um, shopping?” Emmet tries, “I’ll have to check in with her.”

Nerissa scowls. “Right. Text me when you figure it out then. I have to go get Posiedon.”

“But it’s not even three yet!” Emmet protests. He stands, as if to follow his girlfriend, but she shoots him a look as cold as ice, and he slowly lowers himself back to his seat. _“Ugh,”_ he moans. Somewhere in his chest, his heart is throwing stones at him.

“You can’t keep putting it off forever, Emmet,” Ada scolds.

“Don’t you think I know that?” he huffs, crossing his arms in front of him and avoiding eye contact like his life depends on it. He really doesn’t want to see Ada’s judge-y face right now. “I just—I dunno. I guess I just want some more time to prepare myself?”

“For what? You’ve met Nerissa’s mom before.”

“Yeah, like, _once_ and she was so freakin’ intense about it! Can you imagine how she’ll be now that she knows we’re _dating?_ ” Emmet shudders. “She’ll kill me.”

“She won’t kill you,” Ada rolls her eyes. “You’re being overdramatic.”

He shoots her an incredulous look. “I’m overdramatic? Did you _see_ Nerissa storm off?”

“Oh, let her brood,” Ada dismisses, “She pulls it off better than you.”

“Hey!” he shouts without really meaning to. It’s just a knee-jerk reaction to protect his pride. Ada recognizes it for what it is, and doesn’t even comment. 

“Nerissa’s been trying to introduce you as her boyfriend for _weeks_ now. You’d think with how long it took you to convince her to go out with you, you’d be jumping on the opportunity to make things official.”

“We _are_ official!” he snaps. Then, with more thought, asks, “We are official, right? It’s been _months_.”

“The most important thing to Nerissa is her family,” Ada points out, and cold dread forms in Emmet’s stomach, “I don’t think you’ll be in the clear until you have Adrienne’s approval.”

_“Shit.”_

Ada laughs, equal parts amused and pitying. “Yeah, shit.”

* * *

_turns out im free on thursday_

_hooray!_

_did u still want me to meet ur mom?_

His stomach twists itself into knots with each passing minute. Did he text too soon? Wait, do girls even _like_ double texting?

He opens up his chat with Ada:

_im an idiot_

_Yeah_

Well, at least _someone_ is responding to him.

Emmet throws his phone down on his bed, a little harder than necessary but _damn,_ he needs to _do something._ Idly, he wonders if the gym is still open at this hour, but dismisses the idea almost immediately. Going to the gym would mean no phone, which means he would miss Nerissa’s text back—if she texts back—and then he’ll be in even more shit.

God, why didn’t he just agree when they all went out to lunch?

He paces in his room, a small ten-by-eight space. It’s not nearly big enough to contain all of his energy.

He reaches for his phone, almost without thought, only to groan in frustration when he sees there’s still no texts.

_ada distract me im losin it_

It takes a minute, but not long after his phone makes a soft _ding!_ and a looping cat gif pops up on screen.

_thansk_

Emmet spends the next few hours playing mindless phone games, MineCraft: Pocket Edition, and, once, even looking at his homework assignments. Finally, he gets a text back:

_Seriously?_

_“Do u still want me to meet ur mom?”_

_Do YOU want to meet my mom?_

Well, at least he doesn't have to worry about double texting. He starts typing back a response, hesitates, and then deletes it all. He gulps and hits the call button instead.

Nerissa picks up on the second ring. _“Well?”_

“Of course I wanna meet your mom!” he rushes, “I’m just—I’m _nervous,_ Nerissa. Goddamn, you’re so intense sometimes and I _know_ you got that from your mom and I don’t wanna mess this up.”

Nerissa laughs. _“Wh—I thought you weren’t afraid of anything?”_ her tone is _almost_ teasing, but there’s a bitter edge to it that makes Emmet wince.

Adrienne Smith: his girlfriend’s only guardian. From what he’s seen, she’s overbearing, overprotective, and can get extremely hostile if you end up on the wrong side of a debate. Emmet’s not sure he’ll _survive_ , never mind win some kind of approval from her.

“Your mom is not just anything,” he says, and means it.

_“My mom is so chill. You’ll be fine.”_

“Chill isn’t the word I’d use.”

Nerissa huffs, and the phone line turns it into some weird, multiphonic crackle. _“I survived Isobel, didn’t I?”_

“Survived?” Emmet laughs, “I think she likes you more than me now.”

 _“I’m sure that’s not true,”_ she reassures, _“But if you’re worried about it, you’ll just have to become my mom’s favourite,”_ she points out, voice finally softening. Emmet’s shoulders loosen at that, although he has no idea when they got so tight in the first place.

“Oh, sure, should I beat you out before or after I hold up the sky?” he teases.

Nerissa pauses. _“Did you just make a Greek mythology joke?”_ she asks, astonishment colouring her tone.

He freezes in turn. “I guess I did. God, you’re turning me into a nerd.” His girlfriend cheers over the phone, a bright sound that makes his heart flutter. Proud of himself for dispelling her bad mood and, hopefully, easing some of her fears, he asks, “Should I bring anything for Thursday? Should I dress up?”

_“It’s just dinner at my house, Emmet. As long as you do your laundry, it should be fine. And, uh, I don’t know, maybe a small gift? Flowers or something like that?”_

“Right. Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

That part will be easy at least. Getting Adrienne Smith to actually like him? That’s the real battle.

They chat for a little while longer, but Emmet’s distracted, and he thinks Nerissa can tell.

 _“I’ve got to get back to studying, anyway…”_ she excuses herself.

They say their goodbyes, with Nerissa promising to figure out what time dinner is at and text him sometime the next day.

Left alone in the silence, Emmet sinks bonelessly into his bed.

_Ding!_

He frowns, and feels around blindly for his phone.

It’s from Ada:

 _Nice going slick_ 👍

He doesn’t bother texting back.

* * *

Three days. He has three days to think of a gift for Nerissa’s family. Well, for Adrienne, since Poseidon already likes him, but a family gift might seem less like bribery than something specifically for Nerissa’s mother.

Emmet’s never been a weigh the pros and cons kind of guy, but it would be a lie to say he hasn’t debated between and crossed off about a dozen things on the random napkin he found on his car floor. He got through school and baseball practise just fine, but as soon as he lost all of his distractions, his mind crumbled in on itself. 

Which is why he’s idling outside of the Archer household and scribbling hard enough on a fast-food napkin to accidentally honk his horn at a parked car _twice._

 _At least, he thinks, Adrienne already knows we're dating so I don't have to sit through_ that _conversation._ It doesn't do much to reassure him, but it helps.

How the hell Nerissa managed to do this last month when she met his mom, he doesn’t know. She’s _awesome_ and he can _never tell her._

A gentle tap sounds from the passenger side window. Emmet jumps, bumps his head, and drops his pen somewhere under the seat.

Ada giggles as she slides in next to him, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Apologize to my head,” he moans, cradling what is sure to be a bump.

The blonde doesn’t even respond to his joke, and Emmet’s not sure if he should be grateful or annoyed when she instead asks, “So, what’s up? You sounded pretty freaked out on the phone.”

“What do you think?” he definitely does not pout, “I’m having dinner with _Adrienne Smith in three days._ I can’t screw it up or Nerissa will kill and then dump me.” Deciding that his head injury isn’t actually that bad, he lets his forehead fall directly onto the steering wheel with a _thunk!_ to ensure Ada gets the point.

_Ouch._

She sighs and pats his back where he is slumped over in his seat. “You’re so stupid.”

 _Fuck, is she_ cooing? Sometimes, he really wants to smack her.

“You know I came over so you could make me feel _better,_ right?” he mutters.

Ada shushes him, “I _am._ You’re being stupid, and the sooner you accept it, the better you’ll feel.”

“Yeah, fine, I’m an idiot,” he gasps in mock surprise, “Wow! Y’know, that really helped. Thanks, Ada, I can totally stop freaking out now!”

“You’re welcome,” she sounds far more satisfied than she has any right to be. “Look, we just need to take your mind off of it is all. Stop obsessing, I thought that was Nerissa’s job.”

Usually, it is Nerissa in this position; thinking so much that she ruins her own mood worrying about things she can’t change or are way less relevant than she thinks it is. He’s not like that. He’s cool, confidant, and a pretty dedicated boyfriend, if he says so himself. Nerissa is a handful and he loves her even though he hasn’t told her that yet. He just...there’s no _training_ for this sort of thing, no way he can plan for how dinner at the Smiths is going to go. Nerissa says Adrienne is a romantic at heart, but Emmet’s not sure he’ll be able to get to that. You can’t redo a first impression and, even though he’s technically _met_ Nerissa’s mom, she hasn’t met him as her daughter’s boyfriend.

“I’m going to _die.”_

Ada smacks him and the car horn goes off again. “That’s it. Get out of the car.”

“Wait, what—” he turns to face her, but her seat is already empty.

The driver’s-side-door is pulled open with way more force than is really necessary and he is hauled out by his arm before he can get a word in.

“Ada—slow down! Where are we—”

It’s obvious _where_ they’re going in moments, the front steps to the Archer household really only leads to one place. _Why_ his friend wants to drag him inside so aggressively is another matter. _Maybe,_ he thinks somewhat deliriously, _She’s snapped and she’s finally gonna kill me._ He’s annoyed her enough over the years that it really wouldn’t surprise him.

Emmet is hauled into the living room with little ceremony and shoved right towards Ada’s father and aunt who are clearly in the middle of a conversation. They seem vaguely amused by Emmet’s predicament but ignore him for the moment to finish up what they’re saying—something about _politics,_ oh geez—before finally turning their attention on himself and Ada.

“What can we do for you this evening, Emmet?” Adonis asks. His voice is even, it usually is, but he smiles indulgently.

Ada answers, “He’s freaking out about going over to Nerissa’s for his meet-the-family dinner."

Avery and Adonis share a _look_ that he’s learned from Nerissa and Poseidon to recognize as silent-sibling-communication.

“And you came to us for what?” Avery teases, “Adrienne advice?”

Ada shrugs, “Pretty much. Also gift ideas if you have any.”

Avery gestures at the seat across from them.

It’s an old hand-me-down, buy-it-for-fifty-bucks-at-a-thrift-store couch that doesn’t match the one Avery and Adonis occupy. From the way Ada tells it, Cleo took all of their money in the divorce which is part of why Avery lives with them now. Emmet doesn’t mind it though; he would feel bad ruining some fancy leather thing with his dirt-stained jeans.

Ada, he knows, doesn’t care about the couches, and that’s all that matters there.

Adonis clears his throat, same as he always does when it comes to conversations where he will do most of the talking. Emmet has heard his fair share of lectures that all started off just like this.

“What did you want to know?” he asks, ever the considerate father.

There really is no mature way to say, “How do I get Adrienne to like me?” so he just settles on that and tries to strike it from his mind once the words are out of the gates.

Avery laughs. “Adrienne doesn’t like _anybody_ at first,” she snickers, “So let’s just start with her not maiming you.”

Emmet shoots Ada a dry look, “I see comfort isn’t your family’s strong suit.”

“Nope! It’s tough love or bust,” Ada says cheerily.

How she says that sort of thing with a smile on her face, Emmet will never know. He thinks he would probably have to go a little crazy to even begin to understand. “Fine,” he grumbles, “So how do I not get maimed then?”

“Just be yourself,” Adonis says in a way that makes it clear that _he_ thinks he’s being wise but Emmet understands to be utter bullshit.

“You know that’s like the _worst_ advice you can give, right?” he asks wryly.

“It’s not, though,” Avery interrupts, “It’s pretty much the only surefire advice we can give you where Adrienne is concerned.”

Emmet raises an eyebrow skeptically. “And why’s that?”

“Because Adrienne couldn’t _be_ _herself_ when she was your age,” Adonis answers. “We grew up very different from you kids, and it has made her appreciate sincerity. If you go in there trying to be something you’re not you will never be allowed near Nerissa again.”

He blinks. “Well, _that’s_ terrifying.”

Avery shrugs, “That’s just who Adrienne is. You’ll still have to be polite, best you keep your smart-mouth to yourself for now, but don’t lie to her.”

“So am I supposed to be myself, or am I supposed to hold my tongue?”

The smirk doesn’t even have time to settle on his face before Ada smacks him.

“Ow!?”

“You deserved it.”

He probably did. He and turns back to Avery and Adonis. “So, do you guys have any gift ideas for me? Nerissa said something small, but I can’t think of anything.”

* * *

Thursday rolls around far too quickly for Emmet’s liking, and yet not nearly fast enough. Between lunch on Monday and all of her extracurriculars despite _not going to public school,_ he had hardly seen Nerissa at all. It _sucked._

And now he is seeing her tonight for the first time _in front of Nerissa’s mother._ Could he kiss her with Adrienne watching? Hold her hands? Tease her? He’s not sure where the boundaries are. He can’t imagine Nerissa would be too keen on PDA, she never has been even among friends, but Emmet’s not entirely sure how he will get through this dinner without holding or mocking her.

He’s supposed to be himself, isn’t he? Surely a little teasing and a kiss on the cheek will be allowed, right?

He shakes his head, shifting his gift— _chocoflan_ in a stained tupperware—as he waits for Nerissa to buzz him through the doors. He definitely _doesn’t_ jump when the door finally unlocks.

The elevator is empty when he enters, save for a cat that’s napping in the corner. Emmet opens the tupperware, tears off a piece from within, and slides it over to the cat’s corner before hitting the button for the fourth floor.

The Smith family apartment is the second on the right and one of the few doors that isn’t decorated with signs. Nerissa says that because the apartments here are so cheap, many of their neighbors are college kids. Looking at the doorways lined with beer ads and whiteboards, he can almost trick himself into thinking he’s on an actual campus rather than the South end of the city.

He knocks on the door three minutes after their agreed meeting time, and Nerissa opens the door a heartbeat later.

He forgot how sweet her smile is. It’s such a stupid thing to forget when he sees it almost everyday—a little less in this particular week, but still—but the effect on him is instantaneous, a feeling of fresh air after days spent inside that hits him in the exact moments it takes for her lips to pull up just so.

Emmet hugs her, tupperware smooshed between them. It’s uncomfortably hard against his stomach, but her hair is in his face and he is really, really glad to see her. Glad to be with her.

“Nice to see you too,” she laughs, sounding a little breathless.

The importance of the flipped food between them and potential wrinkles on his only dress shirt suddenly rears its ugly head, sounding suspiciously like his mother, too. Emmet tries to ignore that.

“I—” _missed you,_ he thinks. “I’m starving.”

Nerissa’s smile doesn’t drop for a moment. “Good. We’re having salmon.” She doesn’t take his hand, but she walks side-by-side with him in the cramped hallway, and that is almost better.

He sees Adrienne first, but thankfully he is accosted by Poseidon before he has to face that particular mountain.

Poseidon grins up at him. “Emmet! It’s good to see you again!”

“Good to see you too, Bud,” he ruffles Poseidon’s hair, an action the kid has reluctantly accepted in lieu of a handshake.

Poseidon’s grin twists into something more mischievous and, in possibly the worst stage-whisper Emmet has ever heard, says, “Good-luck!” in a high, sing-song.

Emmet sticks out his tongue as he typically does when talking to Nerissa’s brother. He’s a sweet kid, if a little moody, but, hey, Emmet was twelve once too. He likes Poseidon, though; he takes things less seriously than Nerissa. At least, if things flop with Adrienne, he already has Poseidon on his side. Two-out-of-three Smith’s isn’t a bad score. Hell, it’s probably even a _good_ one when you take into account how uptight they all are.

And speaking of, he supposes he should get started on hopefully hundred-percenting this family dinner.

“It’s good to see you again, uh, Missus Smith,” he sticks his hand out for a handshake.

She smiles slightly, but her eyes are hard against his own. How one lady can be so goddamn terrifying just by eyeing a person, he has no idea, but he thinks it must be a mom thing. Emmet holds her gaze the entire time.

Finally, she grabs his hand. “How have you been, Emmet?”

“Good,” he smiles tightly; Adrienne’s grip feels the slightest bit too hard against his own. “I brought dessert?”

He meant to sound more confident there, but Nerissa’s mother doesn’t comment on his hesitant tone. Thankfully, she also doesn’t seem to take offense at him bringing food to a meal without checking first—an anxiety he recognizes only in the two seconds between speaking and waiting for Adrienne’s response.

“Thank you. We’ll just set it on the counter for now.”

Emmet does as he is told, feeling strangely vulnerable without something to hold between himself and Adrienne. His _chocoflan_ won’t do much to protect him, but at least he had a place to put his hands. He shoves them in his pockets nervously.

“Did you guys need help setting up?” he asks. Poseidon is setting the table right now, and taking his sweet time from the looks of it. He’s clearly more interested in their conversation than gathering up forks.

Nerissa waves him over to the kitchen area. “Sure. Can you set these out?” she hands him a stack of plates.

He does so, and too soon they are all sitting around the Smith dinner table. Nerissa sits to his right and Poseidon to his left at the heads of the table—their self-assigned _spots_. When both of them get going at a project, they need the extra table space and apparently they don’t give that up when they don’t need it—which leaves Adrienne directly across from him and well within kicking distance. Or footsie, but he will be keeping his feet planted firmly beneath him to avoid that. He shouldn’t have even thought about it. Why couldn’t Nerissa and her mother have traded seats?

Adrienne is staring at him again. Actually, so is Nerissa. _Crap, crap, crap._ “How’s work going, Missus Smith?” _How do people talk to adults?_

“Fine,” she waves her hand as if dismissing the topic entirely. “How are your grades, Emmet?”

Another litany of _Crap, crap, crap,_ runs through his mind like it has become his own personal soundtrack. “I do well enough,” he says. Nerissa’s grades are crazy high, is it because they’re important to Adrienne? “Seventy-fives and eighties, mostly. Gotta keep them high enough to stay on the team.”

“Baseball, correct?”

He grins, “Yes, Ma’am. I also do some kickboxing. My mom’s a student at the same gym as me,” which is extremely embarrassing to admit, “She’s already got the blackbelt, though.”

Adrienne takes this in just as impassively as his previous statement. It’s _creepy._ “You must not have a lot of free time, then?”

Emmet shrugs, glancing to Nerissa nervously, “Depends on the day, really. Mom and I usually spar in the early morning class, and baseball is after school everyday, but the season’s just about done, so…”

His girlfriend grins at Emmet encouragingly. _Right,_ he thinks, _Can’t be doing too bad at least._ Feeling a little more confident, he grabs his fork and finally starts eating.

It’s a simple meal, salmon on rice, and absolutely _not_ Nerissa’s cooking. He breathes an audible sigh of relief. “I see you didn’t cook tonight.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can even think to stop them. Something like _abject terror_ fills his chest—not his stomach, though, this is way too tasty to lose out on—but he doesn’t even have time to bask in complete and total regret before Poseidon’s giggling fills the room.

“Issa was assigned cleaning duty,” he reports gleefully, “Me and Mom did the food.”

Glancing at Adrienne, he sees the first _real_ expression on her face all night; a slight grin and a gleam in her eyes.

“Good thing, too,” Emmet says. Some frantic thought of steering into the skid takes root in his mind and he resigns himself to just going with it. “This is delicious.”

Nerissa huffs, “I’m not _that bad._ You three are just picky.”

“No, we just value our health,” he teases. The usual banter loosens his shoulders where he didn’t even realize they were wound up, and he even lets himself feel proud when he sees Adrienne’s do the same. Maybe, she was just as worried about this dinner as he was. Maybe.

Dinner continues on noticeably less tense than it was. Or, it feels that way to him, anyway. Nerissa seems unchanged—completely oblivious to the ever-looming threat of Emmet getting his ass handed to him by Adrienne Smith—while he and Nerissa’s mother seem to breathe a sigh of relief now that they’ve found some common ground.

Apparently, teasing Nerissa is a universal enjoyment. Thank god.

By the time their plates are empty, Emmet can say he’s had a pretty good time. Of course, though, that means it’s time for the next trial; desert.

“So, what’d you cook?” Poseidon asks, standing on his tip-toes to try and see the top of Emmet’s tupperware. Adrienne pries the lid off and begins cutting. She _insisted_ on serving even though Emmet tried to do it for her, so now he is stuck at the table while the Smiths all stare down his cake. It’s weirdly invasive. 

“It’s _chocoflan,”_ he says, fingers tapping against his thighs nervously.

Adrienne’s eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t know you baked,” she says, sounding surprised but not disappointed.

“I don’t usually. It’s my mom’s recipe, mostly; _pastel imposible._ I was pretty much just in charge of measuring and dishes, but...yeah, I’m not _totally_ hopeless in the kitchen.”

He can’t help but shoot Nerissa a grin at that. She rolls her eyes and rejoins him at the table with two plates, Adrienne and Poseidon not far behind.

“Mostly?” Poseidon asks. He pokes his slice suspiciously. “You didn’t poison us, did you?”

Emmet laughs, “I mean, I hope not, but I haven’t tried it yet. We had to change the recipe a little to keep it kosher so I don't know how it’ll actually taste. It, uh, fell apart a little with the ingredient changes, but mom seemed confident.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Emmet,” Nerissa says, something unrecognizable in her tone, “You know we don’t really practise much, right?”

“Well, _yeah,_ but I know your dad is super important to you and you still celebrate around the holidays and stuff so...I dunno, I figured dinner with you all was important enough to call for kosher cooking? It was Ada’s aunt’s idea, actually—the baking thing, not the digging into Jewish forums looking for homemade evaporated milk recipes—and my mom’s kitchen isn’t exactly a real kosher kitchen anyway, and you guys made fish, which I’m pretty sure is safe but I didn’t ask what you guys were cooking—” his face heats up. God, he sounds like _Nerissa,_ doesn’t he? Babbling on about stuff that doesn’t even matter. He never wants to have dinner with the Smiths again, it turns him into a nervous wreck.

He smiles nervously. “Anyway, just try it and let me know if it’s horrible.”

Nerissa is giving him this _look,_ kind of like when she was fighting with Poseidon and he told her she could _talk to me about it, Dummy._ Like she’s confused by such an _obvious_ thing and isn’t really sure how to thank him for spelling it out.

Actually, now that he sees them both in the same room, Adrienne is giving him a similar look. It’s funny because he _knows_ Nerissa and her mom both have this...single-minded-focus to them, but he kind of figured that was where the similarities ended. Like mother like daughter is turning into a very on-the-nose descriptor for these two.

Not Poseidon, though. He’s the only one who seems able to accept a nice gesture at face value. Points again for the youngest actually being the wisest in this crazy family. The boy picks up his fork and takes a comically large bite, puffing his cheeks out and staring at his sister pointedly. Then, he swallows and, without missing a beat, says, “Issa definitely didn’t help with this either.”

That settles it; Poseidon is his favourite Smith. Nerissa is a pretty close second though.

“Hey!”

Over the table, Emmet and Adrienne share a smile. She’s not bad either.

**Author's Note:**

> I am Emmet in this fic and the knowledge I now have on kosher baking is Immense
> 
> if anyone wants to know more about Taylor's characters, you can start with their [Twitter](https://twitter.com/laphicets) they scream about them pretty much everyday <33 be sure to stop by and wish them a happy birthday too!
> 
> you can also find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/inabsurd) or [Tumblr](https://inabsurd.tumblr.com/)
> 
> thanks for reading 😄


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